<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Two Candles Short of a House Fire by WaterMe</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728225">Two Candles Short of a House Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterMe/pseuds/WaterMe'>WaterMe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The SpideyPool Holiday Special [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Birthday Sex, But Really Team Switch Forever, D/s, Daddy Dom Nathan Summers, Daddy Kink, M/M, Orgasm Control, Polyamory, Psionically-assisted sexual escapades, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sensory Deprivation, Submissive Wade Wilson, Surprise Threesome, a smidge of consensual non-consent, a surprising absence of food kink, consensual boundary-pushing, dominant peter parker, excuse me sir there's feelings in my porn, mindfuck kink, polyamory lack-of-negotiations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:47:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterMe/pseuds/WaterMe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the best-slash-worst night of Wade’s life. Because, oh em gee, two of his favorite meanies all in one place, putting their full focus on little old him? <em>Swoon.</em></p><p>But, um. Two of the meanest people he knew. With their full focus. On small… weak… defenseless… </p><p>Him.</p><p>His cock twitched.</p><p>“I’m going to die,” he decided.</p><p>“Doubt it,” said Nate, “but not for lack of trying.”</p><p>(It's a very special day, and somebody very special is getting creamed...)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nathan Summers/Peter Parker, Wade Wilson/Nathan Summers, Wade Wilson/Nathan Summers/Peter Parker, Wade Wilson/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The SpideyPool Holiday Special [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Two Candles Short of a House Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><strong>Content Warning:</strong> (mild spoilers!) <a id="return1" name="return1"></a><a class="hovertext5" href="#note1"><span class="hide">See closing notes for more details.</span></a><a id="return1" name="return1"></a></p><p>Fashionably late as always, but hey, I accidentally hit American Thanksgiving, instead. I would have gotten this out sooner, but I saw too many sexy things and did too many 👀👀👀 and gave myself eyestrain (seriously, though... be good to your peepers, folks).</p><p>As with the rest of the series, this can be read as a one-shot. However, if you give a shit about the continuity (lol), this is in the main timeline, so a year and change after ‘Fist Bump,’ and <strike>10 years in 2020 time</strike> 7 months after ‘Make Like A Tree.’ There is a short chapter 2, but I'll add it if I actually get around to editing it (see above re: sore peepers).</p><p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atemluver/pseuds/Atemluver">Atemluver</a> for the beta, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnGoose/pseuds/AnGoose">AnGoose</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Y_ellow/">Y_ellow</a> for cheer-reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Got a surprise for you,” said Peter, tightening the last knot.</p><p>Wade sucked air through his teeth and flexed against the tight jute rope compressing his chest, boxing his arms behind his back. He craned his neck, as if the right angle would somehow negate the heavy leather blindfold strapped over his eyes.</p><p>X-Ray vision not magically acquired <em> (rude), </em>he bit.</p><p>“A surprise, sir?”</p><p>“A surprise. It’s big and kind of scary… but it’s something you like a whole, whole lot.”</p><p>Wade sighed, resigning himself to something terrible. He <em> knew </em>national ‘Sneak Some Zucchini on Your Neighbor's Porch’ day would come back to haunt him. With his luck (and Peter’s twisted humor), it was an eggplant. </p><p>“Why do I get the sinking feeling that this is the kind of surprise I’m going to very much hate, sir?”</p><p>“Really, princess?” said a voice, and that was <em> not Peter. </em> “You're gonna hurt my feelings.” </p><p>That there was the voice of bionic, <em>psionic,</em> Nathan Silverfox Hot!Dad Beyonce Summers.</p><p>“Daddy?” he quavered. Then, “Sir?” </p><p>Peter hummed. “You get to be the center of attention tonight. Doesn’t that sound nice?”</p><p>“Nice,” Wade said, faintly. “Yup. So nice.”</p><p>This was the best-slash-worst night of Wade’s life.</p><p>Because, oh em gee, two of his favorite meanies all in one place, putting their full focus on little old him? <em> Swoon. </em></p><p>But, um. Two of the meanest people he knew. With their full focus. On small… weak… defenseless… </p><p>Him.</p><p>His cock twitched.</p><p>“I’m going to die,” he decided.</p><p>“Doubt it,” said Nate, “but not for lack of trying,” and then threw him on his face and straddled him with thighs so thick the nineties were calling because they wanted their steroids back.</p><p>Oh, what glorious agony it was to be trapped under Nate, bound and blind, screaming himself hoarse into Peter's tasteful Wayfair comforter as his Robocop boyfriend turned him into a passable approximation of a waterlogged pretzel. </p><p>And when that techno-organic hand snuck under his body (techno-<em>orgasmic, </em> amirite?), and Nate bit into his shoulder blade like he was trying to leave a bruise that would actually last… well, that wasn't a Beretta in Wade's pocket, he was just about to <em> shoot the fuck off.  </em></p><p><em> “Fuck,</em> right there, just like that. <em> Please, </em>Daddy — ” there was a shuffle to his left; the pointed clearing of a throat “ — stop! Please stop, Daddy!”</p><p>“Stop?” Nate said.</p><p>He didn’t stop.</p><p>“Stop! Like a stop sign, which maybe you don’t have in your bargain-bin Blade Runner future, but I <em> know </em>you know what that word means.” </p><p>Nate poured over his back, heavy like only someone half made of metal could be (and Wade had a surprisingly broad amount of experience in the area). He purred, “Don’t you want to come for Daddy?”</p><p>“Yeah…” Wade sighed happily. “Wait, no! No, you have to stop, I have to ask.”</p><p>He did stop, then, and Wade gave a bereft whimper. “You have to <em> ask,” </em>Nate said.</p><p>If Nate’s voice was flat, Peter’s was two dimensional. “He has to ask.” </p><p>Oh boy.</p><p>“Even when it’s my hand around his dick?” The frustrated rumble against Wade's back was hotter than it should have been, given the circumstances. </p><p>“As long as it’s my collar around his neck? Yes.” </p><p>Wade gulped against the tight band of leather. “Awkward,” he whisper-sang.</p><p>“Well,” huffed Nate. “Guess I’ll just hurt him, instead. Assuming I’m allowed to do that?”</p><p>“Be my guest,” Peter replied, in a tightly polite tone his aunt would be proud of.</p><p>“Wait!” Wade gasped, hands yanking nervously at the rough coils of rope. “Shouldn’t we, like, negotiate or something? All three of us could sit around in a circle! Fill out one of those awful internet checklists: safewords… what’s on and off the table… <em> who’s </em>on and off the table… what limits make us hard… practice our ‘I’ statements…”</p><p>“It’s cute that you think you get a say,” said Peter.</p><p>“I’d rather use a seashell to gouge out my good eye,” said Nate.</p><p>“I’m doomed,” said Wade.</p><p>He had a sneaking suspicion that Nate’s idea of hurting him wasn’t <em> quite </em> the same as Peter’s.</p><p>His sweet, devious arachnid liked inflicting pain, absolutely no doubt about that. Nobody who had actually seen them play would accuse Peter of being ‘the nice one.’ He was the king of mindfucks, setting the stage so he could reach into Wade’s brain and <em> twist, </em> until Wade’s fear skyrocketed up and his pain tolerance went plummeting down. The fear, that was what <em> really </em>did it for Peter.</p><p>The physical stuff? There was a certain level of physical sadism that Peter just didn't have the stomach for. Seeing Wade injured scared the shit out of him, so when he had the chance to scare the shit out of Wade in turn, well… </p><p>Everyone was allowed their quirks, and if Peter’s sexy hang-up was ‘a phobia of seeing the people he loved bleeding and dying in his arms and leaving him all alone for the rest of his life,’ Wade wouldn’t judge.</p><p>Personally, he was squicked by balloons. One staticky screech of rubber on rubber and it was safeword time.</p><p>(Okay, but just <em> maybe </em> Wade had a teeny tiny boundary around bruising up Peter’s pretty face, no matter how much his baby begged for just one good shiner. And <em> maybe </em> it was an instant boner-killer when Peter made anything even close to the sound he’d made that time he got stabbed and Wade had to sit up with him all night to make sure his chest kept moving.) </p><p>Nate’s metal thumb dug into the band of tendon that ran down the outside of Wade’s thigh, hard enough that the fibers creaked. Wade writhed away, breath coming up short, rope cutting harshly into his biceps, only to feel Peter’s strong hands latch onto his shoulders, pinning him down, pressing his face into the mattress while Nate took him apart.</p><p>Nate didn't want to harm him, either, not really. <em>‘Daddy’</em>wasn’t just a pretty, sexy word. It was a <em> commitment. </em> Lord knows Wade had made a few scandalously bloody suggestions over the years that made Nate say, “What the <em> fuck, </em>Wade?” and give him the cold shoulder for a few days. Cannibalism: hard limit. Lesson learned, okay?</p><p>But this little struggle snuggle was an appetizer in the grand scheme of the way he and Nate often played. Nate didn’t hold back, and there was a freedom in that. There was a violence in him that greeted the violence in Deadpool like an old friend. A push to the edge, the burn-off of adrenaline after a good fight, the bite of pushing back onto a fat cock as limbs regrew and mortal wounds healed. When Deadpool fucked it was with the same disregard with which he laughed through a hail of bullets, or jumped off a building to go after a heads-up penny, or chewed off his own arm to escape a boring conversation.</p><p>(And, okay, every once in a while Wade would let Deadpool out to play around Peter, especially when Peter was at his most sweet and trusting, because sometimes Daddy Deadpool wanted to see real tears, wanted to see that tiny body flinch back and curl around itself with genuine terror.)</p><p>Mostly, though, he tried to rein it in.</p><p>Nate pulled out a chaos that didn’t often appear in this particular gayly domestic bed. It was a chaos that couldn’t be tamed with collars and couch snugs and heroic speeches. That chaos was a part of Wade’s core, just as integral as the scars, and the crude jokes, and the love of Taco Tuesday.</p><p>And it was a chaos that would burn him alive if given free rein, consume him from the inside out until there was no Wade left, only blood and gunpowder and death.</p><p>Balance.</p><p>Wade needed both.</p><p>Wade wasn’t sure he needed both <em> at once.  </em></p><p>His brain was mixed up enough as it was, and wanting Nate to <em> ‘literally just rip me apart, Daddy,’ </em>in the room where Peter had painstakingly (and painfully) trained him to give a shit about his own preservation was confusing, to say the least.</p><p>A Pavlovian response was kicking in each time Nate’s fingers dug just a little too deep, each time a blow landed just a little too heavy, a deep-seated instinct to protect Peter’s property.</p><p>“Take it easy over the kidneys,” Peter was saying.</p><p>Nate snorted. “They’ll heal.”</p><p>“But,” Wade cut in, gasping for breath, “maybe today they can have a nice little break. You hurt me so good in places that <em> don’t </em>make me piss blood, Daddy.”</p><p>“What happened to ‘spicy watersports’?” asked Nate.</p><p>Peter choked a little. “I think that’s enough talking,” he said, pushing Wade’s face back into the bedspread.</p><p>Wade wiggled his ass enticingly, hoping that Nate would understand it as a clear signal that he wasn’t taking Peter’s side, that they were <em> both </em>his favorite, and if we could all just put on our get-along shirts and sing a few kumbayas this date would go a whole lot better.</p><p>He chose to take the bone rattling <em> smack </em>he received from Nate’s metal hand as confirmation that the message was received.</p><p>This was fine. This was great! It wasn’t every day he managed to score a threesome with two of his favorite people, and he wasn’t about to squander this opportunity over a teeny little thing like ‘dramatically oscillating pain tolerance’ and ‘desire to please two people in wildly conflicting ways.’</p><p>He could do this!</p><p>Nate punched him in the gut, <em> hard, </em>hard enough to take his breath away. </p><p>Fuck, he could <em> not </em>do this. </p><p>He <em> couldn't, </em> and he could taste his safeword in the back of his throat like iron, could feel the <em> red </em> bubbling on the tip of his tongue, on the tip of his brain. Not quite ready to come out, but sitting there where both Nate and Peter could see it, in their own way. </p><p>Nate squeezed him around the ribs, and he felt a teeny, tiny, probably-unimportant something <em> pop </em> in his chest, <em> fuck, </em> Peter was going to <em> kill </em>him, and he opened his mouth… </p><p>Peter groaned like Wade's imminent safeword was a hand around his cock.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Peter. The master of psychological kink. Peter, whose fetish was ‘that tense, drawn out breath between the moment Wade realized he’d had too much and the moment the safeword left his lips.’</p><p>And Nate, whose sexuality (and life motto) was ‘being as much of an asshole as possible in any given moment.’</p><p>“Oh, you goddamn mindfucking piece of shit.”</p><p>Peter laughed, and Wade knew he was fucking <em> right, </em>and then he gurgled as the collar yanked tight, cutting into his throat.</p><p>“You want to try that again?” Peter asked.</p><p>Wade gulped, lips tingling. “You’re a goddamn mindfucking piece of shit, <em> sir.” </em></p><p>“That’s better,” Peter said, and Wade faceplanted as the grip on the collar loosened abruptly.</p><p>Nate snorted behind him.</p><p>“Punch me in the sternum, Daddy,” Wade pouted through a mouthful of comforter. “Just right through the chest.”</p><p>“Hmm,” said Nate. “I’d love to, champ, but I’m pretty sure that was, how did you put it? Off the table?”</p><p>“Off the table,” agreed Peter. “Sternum breaking, specifically.”</p><p>“I can pull out the checklist, if you want.”</p><p>“You two negotiated without me,” grumbled Wade.</p><p>Peter pet his head. “Obviously.”</p><p>“And I’m wearing a blindfold because you’re a <em> terrible </em>actor.”</p><p>“It’s like having a threeway with that dumbshit muppet from <em> The Office,” </em>said Nate.</p><p>“Wow,” muttered Peter.</p><p>Wade huffed. “Fuck both you.”</p><p>“Well,” said Peter. “Yes. That <em> is </em>the idea.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>“Assuming we’re done with whatever inane mating ritual that was,” Nate said, and pulled Wade up by his hips. Then a flesh thumb and a metal thumb were working together to spread his scared, unstretched asshole open, and Nate <em> spat, </em>and Wade flinched at the hot spatter. Something broader nudged at him, prying him open… </p><p>“No,” said Wade. “Wait, not like this…”</p><p>“That’s not what you said in Ibiza.”</p><p>Wade sucked in a breath at the memory of what they’d done to those crisp white sheets. “Not in front of <em> him, </em>Daddy.”</p><p>“Aw,” said Peter, his breath suddenly hot on Wade’s temple. “You afraid I’m going to get freaked out? Or afraid I’m going to get <em> ideas?” </em></p><p>Then Nate shoved in and Peter kissed the scream right out of his mouth.</p><p>In all honesty, Wade <em> loved </em>this part. Loved feeling his body snap and break and heal, brand new nerves and mucous membranes coalescing into the negative shape of his Daddy's cock, into a nice warm hole literally made just for him. Nate’s big hand wrapped around the knot of jute between his shoulder blades, pulling his dangling body harshly back until he was so deep Wade could practically taste the precum on the back of his tongue. </p><p>Orgasm swelled faster than he expected, faster than he wanted it to, as Nate slid oh-so-good against sensitive new flesh. The pain from savaged nerves echoed through his body, pleasure from accommodating tissues ringing hot on its heels. And with it, the knowledge that Nate and Peter both knew the inside of his head so intimately, that they somehow both owned him so thoroughly that even his <em> brain </em>wasn’t off-limits when they wanted to cut him to the bone.</p><p>Oh shit, <em> oh fuck, </em> “Please-can-I-come, please, sir, <em> please.” </em></p><p>“Stop him,” Peter snapped, and Wade keened as a warm metal hand wrapped around him and everything locked up at once, tight around his balls, pinching the inside of his cock, prostate squeezed painfully hard on the wrong side of pleasure. He teetered on the edge, trembling, unable to tumble over but unable to step back. Nate didn’t miss a beat, slamming against his aching prostate until he saw stars. </p><p>“Fuck, <em> fuck, </em>Daddy, why…”</p><p> Nate laughed, but Peter slapped him hard across the face. </p><p>“Someone just stopped you from getting into big, <em> big </em>trouble,” Peter said. “What do you say?” </p><p>“Thank you, Daddy,” he whimpered. Nate’s hand clenched on his hip, bruising him to the bone, and Daddy's brain was still in every cell and every nerve, locking him into obedience. </p><p>“Fuck, that’s hot,” Peter said.</p><p>“You still want — ?” asked Nate and, “Yeah,” replied Peter, and then Nate hauled Wade up by the chest harness, back to chest, and Peter's slick hand wrapped around his cock and he was suddenly, acutely aware that Nate had stepped back on the telekinetic orgasm control. </p><p>There was a little fumbling, a little manhandling <em> (nice), </em> and then Nate chuckled, the rumble in his chest shaking soothingly through Wade's back. </p><p>“Problems?” he asked. Wade choked a little as <em> hot-wet-tight </em>pressed against the tip of his cock and then slid off. </p><p>“This is really awkward,” Peter laughed back. </p><p>“Maybe on your hands and knees?”</p><p>“No. Like this, I want it like this,” and Peter wrapped his leg over Wade's shoulder, bracing his foot in the crook of an elbow and levering himself up, and he swore, and Nate laughed in that mean little way that really got Wade going when it was directed at him, but Wade wasn't paying too much attention to Daddy’s laugh because his owner’s goddamn miracle of an asshole was wrapping around him and Peter was saying, “Don't you dare fucking come. Don't you <em> dare.” </em> </p><p>“Daddy,” Wade cried, “Daddy, help me, please help me,” and that awful pinchy squeeze tightened like a tender, loving kick to the nads, and he sighed and relaxed into the sweet, safe denial. </p><p>“Cheating,” Peter said, breathless. Nate toppled them forward so hard Wade thought he would crush them, but Peter could take it, pushing him up and wrapping spidery arms and legs around them both. Nate gave a hard thrust in, and they all moaned. </p><p>“Fuck,” said Peter. “Fuck, Nate, please fuck me, please.” </p><p>Nate pulled out, slammed back into Wade, and Peter cried out. </p><p>“God, Nate, fuck, you feel so good in me.” </p><p>“Yeah, sweetheart? You take it for me so pretty.” </p><p>Their voices were hot by his ear, focused on each other as Nate fucked Peter right through Wade's body. He whined. </p><p>“C'mere,” Nate said, and they laughed a little as they shuffled over his shoulder, then he heard skin on skin, tongue on tongue, one of Peter’s softest, sweetest whimpers. </p><p>They were kissing. They were kissing, while Nate continued to move slow and hard on top of them, fucking into Wade as though he were nothing more than a warm sleeve between him and his lover. The wet kissing sounds continued. </p><p>Wade squirmed. “No fair…” </p><p>“Life isn’t fair,” gasped Peter in his ear, before his muffled cries turned back to Nate.</p><p>“Gonna come for me, sweetheart?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Peter, and Wade could almost see the glazed look in his eyes, the flush growing hot up his chest. “Yeah, please, keep going just like that, make me come.”</p><p>Nate’s chuckle came dark in Wade’s ear. <em> “Make </em> you come?”</p><p>“Wait,” gasped Wade. “Wait, sir, don’t tell him to — ”</p><p>Nate’s hand slammed over his mouth. “No one asked you, you overgrown condom.”</p><p>“Oh, <em> shit,” </em>whispered Peter.</p><p>And then, where Nate had been squeezing and punishing, now he stroked, slid, caressed every inch of Wade inside and out, and Wade’s poor mixed-up brains came spurting out through his cock. He jerked, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come between the rope tight around his chest, and Nate’s heavy bulk crushing him, and the unstoppable, <em> excruciating </em>pleasure.</p><p>Peter spasmed under him, voice tight with surprise, and ecstasy, and the teeniest, tiniest hint of delicious betrayal. “Omigod, what the <em> fuck, </em> holy shit, <em> what.”  </em></p><p>“Sorry,” said Nate. “Probably shoulda warned you.” He didn't sound sorry at all.</p><p>“A-are you telling me… that we could have been doing… <em> that? </em>This entire time??”</p><p>Wade felt Nate’s shrug behind him. “Wanna make up for lost time?” </p><p>Peter yelped. “Wait, no, no-no-no, fuck, shit, <em> no.”  </em></p><p>Wade would have laughed if he wasn't in the exact same boat, body aflame as his too-slowly softening cock rubbed inside his owner, and his Daddy pounded his ass so good he thought <em> (hoped) </em> he might actually die of it. </p><p>And those sounds that Peter made, oh, those were the good sounds, Wade’s <em> favorite </em>sounds. He felt hot tears where Peter’s cheek pressed against his, and his shaker bottle of a brain (already a delicious blend of ‘obedient good boy’ and ‘eat-the-world power bottom’) decided it was a great time to add a pinch of Daddypool and growl, “Fuck yeah, sir, take it for Daddy.” The excruciating pinch to the nipple he earned was super duper worth it.</p><p>He moaned, tilting his head, baring his throat to the both of them. His whimper of, “please, Daddy, please use us to come,” mingled with Peter’s, <em> “please, </em> Nate, please come, I can’t take any more, <em> please,” </em>and Nate’s absolutely best gutted groan as he punched into them with a few final, stuttering thrusts.</p><p>Wade relaxed, a happy, sweaty conduit for the little shivers of afterglow that bounced back and forth between Peter and Nate. Like that little office toy with the silver balls (haha, balls joke).</p><p>“Okay,” Peter said. “This is great and all, but you’re both really heavy.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Peter untied him slow, unwinding loop after languid loop, the world coming back a little at a time as Nate’s tongue chased the rope marks denting his skin.</p><p>“Do you want the blindfold off?”</p><p>Wade shook his head, fumbling to hold it tight, one hand tangling in the ring on his collar to stop Peter from taking that away, too. </p><p>Nate wrapped around him from behind, and then Pete was back, feeding him sips of juice, bites of meat and cheese and, for some reason, tiny cupcakes. </p><p>They boxed him in safe and pet him until sleep tugged him off into dreamland, like Meow-Meow tugging Thor off on a lonely teenage afternoon.</p><p>“Love you, sir,” Wade mumbled. “Love you, Daddy.” </p><p>“I love you,” said Peter with a squeeze. </p><p>“Love you, princess,” said Nate, and Wade gasped. </p><p>“Did he actually say it back? Oh em gee, it must be my birthday!”</p><p>The room was silent for a long moment, and then —  </p><p>“Wade,” said Peter. “It <em> is </em> your birthday.”</p><p>“Wait.” Wade shot up, pushing the blindfold up off one eye. “Are you fucking with me right now?”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If Nate is Wade’s Daddy, and Wade is Peter’s Daddy, does Peter have Nate saved as ‘Granddaddy’ in his phone? 🤔</p><p>I clearly have opinions on those internet kink checklists (when used for negotiation. I don't mind 'em for self-edification). <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1TSKqfKKd7bq5UzHGn-6Quapl9H-3D_as/view?usp=sharing">Here's a one-pager I really like instead!</a> (and if that link ever breaks, bug me in the comments)</p><p class="hide"><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><strong>Content Warning:</strong>  
Unnegotiated emotional manipulation / mindfuck kink, as part of an established consensual D/s relationship where this kind of play is 'on the table.' 
Even though Wade doesn't know it, Peter and Nate have negotiated in advance and are on the same page.
Brief/referenced intentional injury during sex (because, Deadpool). 
A smidge of consensual non-consent when Peter (a gigantic pervert) tells Nate (a psychic) no in an 'oh, no, don't throw me into that briar patch' kind of way. 
<a href="#return1">Return to top.</a><sup></sup></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>